The One He Couldn't Lose
by DinerGuy
Summary: In charge of the SBPD while Karen's on vacation, Lassiter is determined to prove that he doesn't need the help of a certain psychic detective. Unfortunately for Lassie, that same psychic is determined to prove he is needed.
1. The Psychic is Sitting In

Psych belongs to the original creators. It's not mine; I'm just borrowing it for fun.

Originally written in February 2009.

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"Dude, this is the best pineapple upside-down cake ever," Shawn declared around a bite of dessert.

"Much better than that one you made with your Easy Bake oven," Gus started up the stairs to the Santa Barbara police station.

"That's not a fair comparison. I never had time to perfect that recipe. Lassie!" he interrupted himself. "We wanted to know what was going on here. See, we haven't been in on a case in over a week, and I'm getting a strong feeling we should have been called in before now."

Lassiter gave Shawn one of his famous glares.

"Oh, how rude of me. Would you like some cake?"

"Uh, no," Lassiter declined, openly showing his disgust at the half-eaten dessert.

"Can you believe some people, Gus? They have no appreciation for generosity."

"Shawn, you already ate most of it."

"Don't be such a wet noodle, Gus. It's the thought that counts."

Gus ignored his friend and turned back to Lassiter. "So what's going on, Lassiter? You seriously don't have any cases for us to solve?"

"That's right," Lassiter smirked. "The chief's on vacation, I'm in charge, and I don't need any help – especially not from you." He turned on his heel and stalked off to the chief's office, closing the door firmly behind himself.

"You heard him, Shawn. He doesn't have any cases for us."

"Gus, this is Lassie we're talking about. You think he'd actually admit needing our help? Besides, didn't you read in the newspaper about the Rawlings disappearance? If Chief Vick was here, she'd have called us in at the very beginning!"

"It doesn't matter, Shawn. I have to go start my route. Do you want me to drop you off at the office on my way?"

"Nah, that's okay. I think I'll stay here for awhile."

"Why on earth would you do that, Shawn?"

"Oh, come on, dude. It'll be fun! A sit-in! We won't leave until we get a case!"

Gus chuckled nervously. "Yeah, right. Let's go."

"Fine. Be that way. Abandon me. I don't care. I'm staying right here." Shawn plopped into a nearby chair.

"I'm sorry, Shawn, but I have to go. There's a _paying_ job that I need to get to."

Shawn just ignored him. Gus sighed and left.

A few hours later, Juliet O'Hara and Buzz McNabb crossed paths at the coffee maker.

"Detective O'Hara, do you know why Shawn Spencer has been sitting in the hallway most of the whole morning?"

Juliet leaned out into the corridor to get a look. Shawn was tapping his leg impatiently, keeping an intent eye on Lassiter through the door to the chief's office.

"No, not really. I just got back in." She tossed her cup in the trash can. "I'm going to find out, though."

"Hey there, Jules," Shawn greeted her. "What's up?"

"I was just about to ask you the same question. I hear you've been sitting here the whole morning."

"Just about."

"Why?"

"I have nothing better to do. And I'm waiting for Lassie to admit he needs my help on a case."

"Uh huh," Juliet looked over at Lassiter, who was intently reviewing a case file. "I'll catch you later." She headed for the office.

"Shut the door, O'Hara," Lassiter ordered.

"Why?" she asked, closing it.

"Because I don't want Spencer hearing anything," he explained. "Now, did you get any leads on the Rawlings case?"

"No," she shook her head. "But I wanted to ask you why you won't let Shawn help with any cases. Especially since we're in a rut on this one."

"No one's in a rut, O'Hara. I'm going to solve this case on my own – _without_ any help from Spencer."

"But doesn't his psychic stuff usually work?"

Lassiter gave her an amused look. "I can solve cases all by myself, thank you. I did it all the time before he came along."

"All right, all right," Juliet raised her hands. "Are you just going to let him sit in the hallway all day?"

"No. I was about to have him arrested for loitering."

"You can't be serious."

"I am if he won't leave."

Juliet followed him to Shawn's chair.

"You have exactly ten seconds to vacate the premises, Spencer, or I'll have you booked for loitering."

Before Shawn could respond, an officer hurried up to them.

"Detective Lassiter, there's a young woman here who is insisting on speaking to the chief. Since you're in charge right now, I assume you'll want to talk to her?"

Lassiter sighed, frustrated at being stopped from kicking Shawn out. "Fine, get her a visitor's pass and show her to me."

The man nodded and hurried back the way he'd come.

"Ooh, can I be in on this?" Shawn pleaded. "I can sense she's in trouble."

"It doesn't take a psychic to figure out that someone who comes into the police station asking to see the chief is in trouble," Lassiter countered. "And, no, you may not be in on this. I told you to leave."

The officer returned, accompanied by a petite brunette who looked to be about Shawn's age. Shawn noticed that she kept glancing over her shoulder and kept a close eye on her surroundings.

"I'm getting something!" Shawn exclaimed, squinting and holding a hand to his head. He began waving his other hand around in front of the young woman. "You're worried about being followed."

Her eyes widened. "Yes, that's exactly it. I don't know how you know that, but I think someone's stalking me."

"Really?" Lassiter perked up at the word 'stalking.' "Why don't we go into the office and talk? You can tell us what's going on."

"Okay," she nodded, relaxing a bit.

Shawn began to follow them, but Lassiter turned and stopped him in his tracks. "I believe I asked you to leave."

Before Shawn could object, Lassiter had closed the door and shut the blinds, leaving Shawn stewing in the hallway.


	2. Shawn Spencer  Body Guard?

"Okay, have a seat," Lassiter instructed, turning from the blinds.

Juliet gave him a strange look but didn't say anything. Instead, she patted the young woman on the arm. "I'm Detective Juliet O'Hara and this is Head Detective Carlton Lassiter."

"I'm in charge for now while the chief's on vacation," Lassiter interjected.

The girl nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm Charlotte Lewis. I'm just visiting Santa Barbara for the week."

"Let's get right to it, Miss Lewis." Lassiter sat down behind the desk.

"Okay. I know this might sound really strange to you … Well, you're the police, so it might not … But I think someone is stalking me."

"And why do you think that?" Juliet inquired, perching on the side of the desk.

"Well, there's been this creepy guy dressed in a dark suit and sunglasses following me since yesterday afternoon. And I almost got hit by a car."

"Why don't you tell us all about it?"

"Well, yesterday afternoon I went out to do some shopping. I was just minding my own business, but then I noticed that this one guy had been behind me for a while. At first I didn't think it was too strange, like maybe it was a coincidence that he was going to the same places I was, but it got creepy after a while."

"And he's still following you?" Lassiter asked.

"Yes," Charlotte nodded. "Either him or this one other guy. But there's always someone. I'm getting scared to be alone. Several times, I thought I saw them reach under their jackets, like they were reaching for a gun, but they've never pulled one since I've been trying to stay with groups of people."

Lassiter unconsciously reached for his holster. Charlotte let out a little squeak.

"See? That's what they do every so often!"

Juliet gave Lassiter a stern look, and he dropped his hand back to the desk.

Charlotte continued, "I really need your help on this. Can you catch the guy, like, right now? Because I don't feel like hiding here for the rest of my vacation."

"I'm sorry, but these investigations do take time. Unless he's right outside the station, which I doubt, we won't be able to nab him right away," Lassiter informed her.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Charlotte wailed. "It's terrifying to know some psycho could be following me all over the place!"

"Calm down," Juliet said, patting Charlotte's arm. She leaned towards Lassiter. "What do you think, Carlton?"

"Protective custody," he immediately responded.

"We can't spare any officers for that right now, can we?" Juliet asked.

Lassiter held up a finger. "I know who I can assign to do it."

"Who? McNabb?"

Lassiter threw open the door. "Spencer! Get in here!"

It took a minute, but Shawn finally came bounding into the room. After trying in vain to see through a crack in the blinds, he'd given up and gone to the front desk. Distracting the policewoman behind the desk by knocking over a cup of pens, Shawn had read the visitor's name off the log.

"What took you so long?" Lassiter demanded. "I thought you were sitting in the hall."

"I thought you told me to leave."

"I thought you didn't follow instructions."

Shawn just ignored him and turned to Charlotte. "Hello there," he greeted, extending his hand. "Shawn Spencer, head psychic for the Santa Barbara Police Department."

"Psychic, eh?" she looked doubtful.

"Yes, Miss Lewis. Or may I call you Charlotte?"

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "Do we know each other?"

"We do now." Shawn turned to Lassiter. "Lassie, I'm sensing you changed your mind about asking for my help."

"Yes, I did, and don't make me regret it."

"Score! Do I get to work with the lovely Miss Lewis?"

Charlotte blushed, and Juliet felt just a little hurt. _Why does that comment even matter to me?_ she asked herself. _Shawn has a right to compliment others._

"Actually, yes."

"Lassie, you're awesome!" Shawn grabbed a file off of the desk. "So is the case in here?"

"No." Lassiter took the file from Shawn's hands. "You are in charge of Miss Lewis' safety."

"I'm what?" Shawn stopped to think about it for a minute. "Like, protective custody?"

"Cheer up, Spencer, you look like I just took the world's biggest pineapple out of your hands. This is real police work."

"As opposed to what?"

"Oh I don't know. Maybe as opposed to those convulsions you perform and pass off as police work?"

"Ohhhh, you mean when I solve your cases?"

Lassiter sighed in exasperation. Juliet quickly jumped in before the conversation got violent.

"Shawn, we need you to keep Miss Lewis safe until we find her stalker."

"Got it," he nodded. Turning to Charlotte, he smiled. "Wanna hang out at my place?"

She looked at him with raised eyebrows again. Shawn wondered if that was the only expression she knew. He decided to make sure it wasn't by the time they parted.

"How about something more public?" she suggested.

"My office?"

"Better." Charlotte headed out the door.

"My phone'll be on if you need to call me in for that investigation," Shawn informed Lassiter as he followed his new charge.

"Spencer, out!"


	3. Making A List: Editing It Twice

Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far! I'm so glad you're enjoying. :)

In response to invisalite, thank you for the constructive crit! It's much appreciated. ;) I should probably go back and edit a lot of what I've written. I originally wrote this last February and posted it on another fic archive, but I finally got around to creating an account and uploading all my work here. So, even though it needs an editor's touch (again), I hope you all still enjoy it!

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"Burton Guster."

"Dude, you have got to come back to the Psych office now!" Shawn exclaimed as soon as Gus answered his phone.

"Shawn, I figured you'd moved in at the station or something. I hadn't heard from you all morning!"

"I know, I know, it's all a little weird. Lassiter wouldn't let me in on anything, then he sticks me with, get this, protective custody."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And she's so hot!"

"Are you two at the office?"

"Yeah."

"Be right there."

"Gus! Gus?"

All Shawn heard was the dial tone. Sighing in amusement, he set the phone down, then rejoined Charlotte in the main area of the office. She looked up from her book as he entered.

"So …" Shawn walked to the fridge and opened it. "You hungry? I think there's some pineapple in here somewhere."

"No thanks." Charlotte shook her head.

"Okay." He put the container back and closed the fridge, then came over to sit beside her on the couch. "It has to be tough to be stalked."

"You have no idea," she answered, brushing a few strands of dark hair from her face. "I just feel so alone and vulnerable every time I see one of them."

"Man, that's hard," Shawn sympathized, moving slightly closer to Charlotte's side of the sofa.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Why don't you tell me about it? I might be able to divine something about who's stalking you and why."

"Okay," she agreed. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, first, I need to hold your hand."

Charlotte gave him another raised-eyebrow look.

"It helps the connection," Shawn explained.

"Hello!" Gus' voice came from the doorway.

"Gus! You totally interrupted my concentration!" Shawn complained, annoyed at his friend's timing. "I was just about to connect with Charlotte."

"Sorry." Gus didn't look like he meant it a bit. He went over to where Charlotte was sitting. "I'm Burton Guster, Shawn's partner. But you can call me Gus."

"All right. Nice to meet you, Gus. I'm Charlotte."

"Beautiful name," Gus smiled. "I've always like it."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Gus, Charlotte was just about to tell me about her problem."

"Really? How could a nice girl like you possibly have any problems?"

"I'm being stalked. And I think they want to kill me."

Gus gulped. "Oh, wow. That is a problem."

"So, Charlotte," Shawn spoke up in a mystical-sounding voice. "Please, tell me all about it."

Charlotte got up and began pacing. "Well, I'm spending the week in Santa Barbara. Yesterday, I noticed this guy in a dark suit and glasses following me everywhere. Sometimes this other guy takes his place, but one of them is always somewhere nearby."

"There's more, isn't there?" Shawn asked. "I can feel it. Tell me everything that you've done since arriving – and I mean everything."

"Even what she ate for breakfast?" Gus scoffed.

"Gus, stop it," Shawn turned back to the agitated girl. "Calm down, Charlotte. You're not helping any. Just have a seat and tell me all."

"I arrived in Santa Barbara the day before yesterday. Nothing strange happened that day. It was in the afternoon, so I got to my hotel and just lazed the day away."

"You went nowhere?" Shawn asked. "Did you talk to anyone?"

"Not really. I stayed in the hotel the whole time – it's right by the airport – and only talked to, like, one other person. I didn't even go down to the restaurant for dinner; I just ate some snacks I had. Riding on a plane doesn't do anything good for my stomach."

"Okay, what about yesterday?"

"Hmm." She had to pause to think for a minute. "I was feeling better and decided to take a little shopping trip and just walk around and relax. Uh, I went to a bunch of stores, had lunch, and then I noticed the stalker."

"Let's go back a bit," Shawn instructed. "Something happened that morning. Did you talk to anyone who seemed suspicious?"

"No," she began, then paused. "Wait, I did pick up a bracelet I found lying in the entrance to an alley. Do you think that's got anything to do with it?"

"I don't know. Do you have it with you?"

"Yeah, here." Charlotte dug around in her bag for a moment, then pulled out a gold band. "It was so nice, I couldn't just leave it lying in the street."

Shawn didn't reply, he was too focused on the bracelet. His quick eyes saw an engraving on the inside of the bracelet, which read _Marianne Rawlings_.

"Ah!" he gasped, dropping the bracelet and clutching his hand.

"What is it?" Charlotte leaned over, worried.

"My hand! That bracelet has a really bad feeling."

"It does?"

Gus spoke up. "Is it connected with the stalker?"

"Yes, yes! Most definitely!"

"Great." Charlotte sounded happy. "So does this mean you can have the police arrest him and I can leave?"

"Not at all," Shawn objected, placing a hand on Charlotte's back. "I simply know it's connected. You'll have to stay with us just to be safe."

Suddenly, they were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. A dark object flew through what used to be the front window and landed at Shawn's feet.

Leaning over, he picked it up. It was a brick with a note taped to it. In words cut out of newspaper, it read:

_I'm still here. And my list just grew by 2._


	4. Empty Bakeries Are Bad Places

"Shawn, we have got to tell the police about this."

"What good would that do?" Shawn asked Gus. "We don't know who did it or any clues other than the paper and the brick. We can tell Lassie later. Right now, there's more important matters."

"Like what?"

Shawn turned to Charlotte. "Do you remember where you were when you found that bracelet?"

She paused to think. "Yes, I believe so."

"Good. Let's go on a little hunting expedition."

"Hunting?"

"Clue hunting. We need to find out who wants to kill you. And why. I could go for either one. Or both – both would be even better."

Charlotte giggled.

Gus gave her a smile. "We get the idea, Shawn."

"Fine," Shawn sighed. "Let's go."

They exited the office and walked to Gus' little blue car. Shawn started to take his normal seat on the passenger side, but Gus got there first and held the door open. "Here you go, Miss Lewis."

"Why thank you, Gus."

Shawn glared at Gus. "Dude," he whispered as soon as the door was shut, "what are you doing? You know I always ride shotgun!"

"Not this time, Shawn! I'm changing things. It's my turn to get the girl in a case."

"What? Are you really going to fight about this?"

"Yes, I am, Shawn. Proudly."

"Hello? Guys?" Charlotte opened her door. "Are you coming?"

"Yes, we are," Shawn told her. He gave his friend one more glare and opened the back door. Gus just smiled smugly, walked around to the driver's seat, and started the engine.

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After driving around the city, they finally pulled up in front of a small bakery.

"Is this it?" Gus asked.

"Yes. I remember I came here for a snack then walked down that way," she pointed, "towards the boardwalk. No, wait. Maybe it was that way towards the coffee shop."

Gus looked surprised. "You don't remember which way you went?"

"No," she looked upset. "I don't. I went a lot of places this morning, and there's an alley on either side of this building."

"Okay," Shawn decided. "We'll split up."

"Right. Charlotte and I can go towards the coffee shop, and you can go the other way, Shawn."

"Yeah, fine. Just watch out for her." Shawn headed off towards the alley on the right side of the building.

He peered in the entrance. Nothing unusual, just trash and the usual junk people put in an alley. He started to turn away but noticed something sticking out from under one of the trash cans. Walking over, he picked it up. It was a cell phone. And it was opened, as if someone had dropped it in the middle of a call. It was cracked, probably from being dropped or hitting the garbage can. He tried to turn it on, but it wouldn't respond, most likely from the damage.

His mind went back to his brief glance at the file on Lassiter's desk. It was about the missing Marianne Rawlings. One of the details on the top sheet had mentioned her placing a cell phone call to her husband right before she was supposed to meet him. No words were exchanged, just the sound of scuffling and then her phone went dead. The report had said what type of phone she carried. This cell was the same model.

Shawn jogged back to the entrance of the alley. Gus and Charlotte were just returning to the car.

"We didn't find anything," Gus told him, coming over to join him. Charlotte stayed by the car.

"I did." Shawn waved the phone in the air. "I'm getting a bad feeling about this. It's like someone dropped it in the middle of a call and couldn't retrieve it."

"So?"

"So? Gus! This is the same type of phone that Marianne Rawlings – the woman who disappeared and who Lassiter is trying to find – owns. Put it together with the bracelet and you've got a very suspicious-looking alley."

"So you think someone abducted Marianne here?"

"Yes! And when Charlotte picked up the bracelet, the crooks were nearby and couldn't let her put any pieces together."

"I say we call Lassiter. With your finding, the bracelet, and the note, it's enough to get him down here."

"Yes. You do that. Tell him to send his crime scene people or whoever he wants over. This is where Marianne was taken."

"Why?"

"I don't know. But tell him I divined it and need him down here right away."

"All right." Gus pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

"Good. I'll be right back. I hear that bakery is experimenting with a new type of fruit muffin."

Gus just nodded and walked back to the car, dialing the phone as he went.

As Shawn entered the bakery, he immediately noticed the absence of any other customers but just assumed it was a momentary lull in business. No one was behind the counter either, so Shawn called out, "Hello? Anybody home?"

The back door opened and a man in a dark suit came out. "Hello there, Mr. Spencer. So glad you could join us."


	5. I'd Rather Not Be Needed Here

"O'Hara!" Lassiter called as he passed her desk on his way to the front door. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" she asked as they hurried down the steps to the parking lot.

"I've finally got a lead on the Rawlings case."

"That's great!"

"I know. And I did it – oh, never mind. Anyway, the owner of a small coffee shop remembers seeing a woman matching Marianne Rawlings' description at his shop yesterday morning."

"Why hasn't he come forward sooner?"

"He says he doesn't normally watch the news. Old guy probably never even reads the newspaper."

"All right; what's the rest of his statement?"

"According to him, after Mrs. Rawlings left the shop, she headed down towards the bakery next-door. That's the last anyone saw of her."

"Great. So are we going question the bakery staff?"

"Yes," Lassiter nodded.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Juliet's cell phone rang. She flipped it open. "O'Hara … Gus? What's going on? … He is? … Okay, where? … Hang on." She turned to Lassiter. "Shawn Spencer needs us down at the Sweet Delights bakery. Says it's about the stalker."

"What? That's where we're already headed! If it turns out he's solved my case, I am going to –"

Juliet put the phone back to her ear. "We're on our way."

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The man laughed. "I see you know who I am already." He walked around the counter towards Shawn.

"To some degree," Shawn responded. "However, introductions are yet to be made." He held out his hand. "I'm Shawn Spencer, head psychic for the SBPD. And you are?"

The man slapped Shawn's hand away. "Pity. I thought psychics know whatever they want."

"It doesn't quite work that way."

"I overheard your conversation with Mr. Guster and Miss Lewis just now. I was hoping to wait till it was dark for this, but I see it'll have to happen right now."

Shawn's mind raced, trying to come up with any escape plan that didn't include failing.

The man reached for his gun. "I guess this is good-bye." His smile was cruel and cold.

"Wait!" Shawn yelled. "You don't have to do this. Charlotte simply picked up a bracelet. She didn't know what it had to do with anything. And she never got a look at your face, due to those glasses. She can't possibly give any description to the police."

"Yes, but I'm not wearing them now, am I? And since I have to get rid of you, I have to get rid of the other two at the same time so they don't get suspicious."

Shawn knew Lassiter and Juliet were on their way. If he could just keep this wacko talking, he, Gus, and Charlotte might have a chance of getting away.

"So," he spoke up, "you're behind Marianne Rawlings' disappearance?"

The man gave Shawn a strange look. "I thought you'd already figured that out."

"I did. But why? I'm a little foggy on those details. And I'm also cloudy on if you killed her or not."

"You know, you talk too much. Anyone ever told you that?"

"Yes, more times than I care to count."

"Well, it's time to shut you up." The man drew his weapon and leveled it at Shawn.

Suddenly, another man burst into the front room.

"Ah, the other man in black has finally arrived," Shawn announced.

The second man turned to the first. "What's he doing?"

"Being an idiot."

"Speaking of which, you weren't about to fire that gun, were you? Have you looked outside? There's two cops out there!"

Man #1 hurried to the window, keeping his gun trained on Shawn. "You're right! And they're talking to Guster and Lewis!"

"Great," Man #2 sighed. "Well, you have to do something."

Suddenly, Man #1 let out an exclamation. "Let's go." He shoved Shawn towards the backroom.

"What's going on, Phil?" Man #2 asked.

"One of the cops just happened to look up and see my gun through the window."

"What?"

"Yeah. We gotta go."

"What about the psychic?"

"Don't worry about me, folks. I'll be fine on my own."

"Right," Phil rolled his eyes. "You're coming with us. Move!"

"I really don't think –"

"If you keep talking, you'll regret it," Phil snarled. He forced Shawn through the back door and into a car parked in the employees' lot.

They pulled away from the curb just as Lassiter and Juliet, guns drawn, entered from the bakery's front door.

"Is he here?" Gus asked, hurrying in behind them. Charlotte followed closely behind, worry evident in her green eyes.

"No," Juliet answered, heading towards the backroom.

"There was a guy in here with a gun," Lassiter insisted.

"I believe you," Gus told him. "Especially since Shawn's not here."

Juliet returned from the back room. "Back door's ajar. They were just here."

"Great," Lassiter ran a hand through his hair.

The ringing of a phone made them all jump.

"Sorry." Juliet dug her phone from her pocket and flipped it open. "O'Hara." Her eyes widened slightly. "Hold on." She put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter. "All right; go ahead."

"Hello, everyone," a man's voice came over the phone. "I'm the one you're trying to catch. However, I've caught something, too. Your little psychic friend is here with me. My partner and I are headed out of the country. I'll return Mr. Spencer alive if you let us get out with no trouble. Otherwise, I wouldn't count on having his help on anymore cases."

"How do we know you didn't already kill him?" Lassiter demanded.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Detective. I should have known you'd want proof. Hold on."

There was a ripping sound and a yelp of pain, then Shawn's voice could be heard over the phone. "Aw, dude, you need to learn how to be more gentle!"

"Just talk," the unknown voice demanded.

"Fine, fine," he grumbled. "Hey, guys," Shawn spoke into the phone.

"Spencer, are you all right?" Lassiter asked.

"Yeah, more or less. That guy really needs to learn how to take tape off without removing a layer of skin."

They all winced at the image.

"All right," the other man came back on the line. "Now, you see I'm telling the truth. I'm going to hang up now, but if we have any trouble at all, Mr. Spencer will pay."

They heard a click, and then the line went dead.


	6. Never Trust A Stalker

Henry Spencer was in the process of fixing himself lunch when the phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and sighed. If Carlton Lassiter was calling him, he would probably have to forget about his lunch for now.

"Hello … Lassiter, if you need to tell me something about Shawn, just do it! I don't need any of this hemming and hawing … He's what? … I'm on my way."

Dropping the phone on the counter, Henry grabbed his keys and tore out of the house and broke every speed limit law in the city.

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Lassiter wouldn't let Gus and Charlotte drive alone, even if they were right behind the detectives' car the whole way. Once the crime scene techs arrived, he rode back to the station with Gus and Charlotte rode with Juliet. Trying to distract himself from riding in a car with someone else behind the wheel, he grilled Gus the whole way to the station.

"What were you three doing here anyway? I specifically did _not_ want you in on this Rawlings investigation."

"We weren't technically investigating it," Gus explained. "We were trying to find Charlotte's stalker."

"By finding my kidnapper?"

"It turns out so, yes. Shawn had Charlotte recap her days here in Santa Barbara, and she mentioned picking up a bracelet from an alleyway right before she started getting stalked. Shawn sensed it had something to do with the case, so he came here to see what he could divine."

"How did those men get him, then, if you were all out waiting for us?"

"Shawn went into the bakery, not thinking he'd run across the stalker there."

"But how would they think he knew who they were?"

"Well …"

"Guster, spill it."

"Someone threw a brick threw the window of the Psych office a little while after he got back there with Charlotte. There was a note on it that said something about somebody still being here and their list growing by two. Or something like that."

"And you didn't think to tell us anything about this?" Lassiter let out a frustrated sigh.

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In the other car, Charlotte and Juliet rode in silence, each thinking their own thoughts. Charlotte finally spoke up.

"Detective O'Hara?"

"What? … Sorry; I'm just distracted."

"I know … Do you think Shawn's okay?"

Juliet took a deep breath. "To be honest, I'm not sure. But he's been in plenty of dangerous situations before. He knows how to handle himself."

"I'm sorry," Charlotte's voice wavered. "I just can't help but feel that this is my fault."

"Don't blame yourself. It's not."

"But if I hadn't picked up that bracelet in the first place, those men wouldn't have been following me, and none of you would be mixed up in this."

"No, no; don't feel bad. We'll find Shawn. Besides, you did help a lot with the case by finding that bracelet. We most likely wouldn't have been able to find the crime scene. And now we were able to get some DNA from the alley. We're checking it with our records right now, along with the evidence we found in the bakery."

"I know, but still … Shawn's out there somewhere, possibly hurt, and –"

"Listen," Juliet interrupted her. "I've dealt with these situations before. The people closest to the situation always feel guilty. I want you to quit blaming yourself. It won't help anything."

Charlotte nodded and rubbed a hand over her eyes.

Juliet couldn't help wondering if Charlotte's worry for Shawn went farther than just plain concern. _Nonsense, O'Hara. She's barely known him for a day._

They rode the rest of the way lost in their own thoughts.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

Henry slammed the door to the chief's office open. "I want answers, Lassiter."

The detective looked up. "Mr. Spencer. Thanks for coming."

"What, you thought I'd just stay home when I found out my son's missing?"

"No, sorry. That didn't come out right."

"No, it didn't. Now will someone _please_ tell me what's going on?"

Juliet entered the room with a file, which she handed off to Lassiter. "Here's the information we came up with from the computer."

"Detective O'Hara," Henry stopped her. "Can you tell me what's going on with Shawn?"

"Well, from what we know, he was in charge of protective custody in a stalker case."

Henry couldn't help but snort in amusement. "Shawn? Doing protective custody work?"

"Yeah."

"And whose brilliant idea was that? Shawn can hardly protect himself."

Juliet glanced over at Lassiter, who shifted uncomfortably.

Henry shook his head.

Continuing with her explanation, Juliet filled Henry in on everything they knew about the case. "And now we've got a possible ID on the culprits. It looks like they're involved with another case we're working on. Anyway, we're trying to track down their last known locations and see if there's anything suspicious there."

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

"All right, smart guy. Here we are," Phil announced.

They parked at an old boathouse a little ways outside of Santa Barbara. Phil and his friend pulled Shawn from the car and forced him inside. Phil sat Shawn on a chair and tied him to it, then pulled the new piece of tape from Shawn's face.

"Ow. I'd have thought that the second time you'd have learned to be a little more gentle."

Phil responded with a backhanded smack.

"Maybe you just don't know how to be gentle, period," Shawn said, grimacing at the taste of blood in his mouth.

"You know what; you're absolutely right," Phil grinned, hitting Shawn again.

"Okay, man, cut it out for now," the other guy said, coming over to grab Phil's wrist. "Do you think the boss'll be happy to show up and find out you beat the psychic senseless? He might still want him once we get out of here."

It took a minute, but Phil finally calmed down. "Fine, but you can deal with him, Jim. I'm done." He stormed out of the hut.

Jim turned to Shawn. "We'll be back later. In the meantime, remember that there's no one around here, so calling for help won't work." He smirked. "Just didn't want you to bother wasting your breath." Turning away, he walked out, shutting the door firmly behind himself.

Shawn heard a lock click into place, the roar of an engine and a car driving away, then an eerie silence took over.


	7. When Things Are What They Don't Seem To

Shawn had been by himself for 15 minutes or so before Phil and Jim returned. They were accompanied by another man. The new guy wasn't much taller than either of the others, but the way he carried himself was enough to show that he was a big-shot.

"Mr. Spencer," the man smiled. "How nice to see you."

"Yeah, well, I had nothing better to do."

The man sniffed. "I'm glad. Now, let's get down to business. I hear you're a very good psychic. I'd like your help on something."

"That depends. If it's something bad, I don't think the spirits are going to cooperate very well."

"If you value your life, I think you'll get them to do so," the man continued. "I deal in special shipments, and one of my buyers owes me quite a bit. He decided to drop out of sight, but, as you know, I can't have that."

"And this involves me how?"

"Well, we attempted to bait him out into the open by kidnapping his sister, but that hasn't done anything for us yet. We could use up numerous resources, but why bother when we can have you do it for us? The only problem was getting you here, but we've managed to accomplish that quite nicely."

Shawn felt his heart sink as he realized what the man's words meant. He could almost hear his dad lecturing him about letting things get in the way of seeing who the criminals were.

He didn't know where this missing guy was, but even if he did, he most certainly wouldn't hand him over to this man. "Sorry, not possible."

"What?" The boss looked like he couldn't believe what Shawn had just said.

"I said it isn't possible. There's no way I'd ever be able to divine anything that would turn someone over into your hands."

"Oh yeah?" Phil snapped. "Well maybe you're not a real psychic then. I'm sure they can figure that kind of stuff out."

Shawn put on an offended face. "I'm hurt you'd even say that, Phil. Look, I can sense you want me to find Marianne Rawlings' brother, but I have no idea where he is."

Phil raised his eyebrows. "Really? And how do you know that?"

"Just stop it!" the boss demanded. "Now, Mr. Spencer, I'm going to ask you nicely one more time, and then I'll let Phil ask you."

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

"O'Hara, come look at this," Lassiter demanded, motioning her over.

She moved to peer over his shoulder at his computer. "What?"

"See this? The DNA at the scenes matched to two previous felons: Phillip Stanley and Jim Pullman."

"And?"

"And the only thing these two have ever had in common is their involvement with a man named Norman Wright."

Juliet gasped. "The arms dealer?"

"Yeah." Lassiter's face was grim.

"If this guy has Shawn, that's not good news."

"See what you can get on him," Lassiter instructed. "Any information whatsoever."

"Right," she responded, hurrying out to use her computer.

A few minutes later, she was back. "Guess what? I just found a connection between our kidnappers and something else we've been working on."

"Which would be?"

"The Rawlings case."

"You're kidding."

"No. Apparently one of Wright's current targets is a man named Jonathon Sparks, who just happens to be Marianne Rawlings' brother."

The pieces began clicking together in Lassiter's brain. "So Sparks disappears on Wright, and he goes after the sister to try to draw Sparks into the open again."

"Exactly. Only Sparks is still gone, so Wright has to come up with another way to find him."

"A psychic."

"But how did he know where Shawn would be?"

The last piece fell into place in Lassiter's mind at the same time as it did in Juliet's. "This means the whole stalking case is a setup!"

The detectives nearly tripped over each other getting to the waiting area.


	8. Complications And Revelations

Gus was surprised Henry hadn't worn a hole in the floor yet with all his pacing. For the last few hours, the man had gone back and forth, following the same path and occasionally stopping to barge into the chief's office to demand a report.

Charlotte had stayed in a chair beside the window the whole time, lost in her own thoughts. Lassiter wouldn't let her leave the station as long as the stalker was still at large.

When Lassiter and Juliet came around the corner, the three jumped up.

"Did you get a lead?" Henry asked eagerly.

"Yes, actually, we did," Lassiter responded. He turned to Charlotte. "Miss Lewis, I'm going to need you to come with us."

"Why? What's going on?" she asked.

"We have information pointing to you as part of the gang that kidnapped Shawn Spencer."

"What? That's outrageous! I'm the one who was being stalked!"

"It seemed that way," Juliet told her. "But we're starting to think otherwise."

"You're crazy! I'm totally innocent. _I'm_ the victim here!" she insisted.

"I'm sorry; but you'll need to come with us," Juliet took her arm and led her towards an interrogation room.

Lassiter turned on his heel and followed, leaving Henry and Gus staring after them in surprise.

"I certainly didn't see that coming," Gus finally spoke up. "I mean, she came to us really scared of the stalker. I'm not sure I believe this."

Henry sat back down. "Well, Gus, sometimes you have to look beyond the apparent and question everything you notice. Sometimes that's the only way to find the truth."

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

"I'm sorry this has to happen this way," Norman Wright said, looking down at Shawn. He stepped back to allow Phil to move closer to the chair.

Phil snickered as he rolled up his sleeves. "I'm sure Mr. Spencer will be most happy to help after this."

"Just get on with it," Wright growled.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Shawn spoke up, swallowing the fear welling up inside him. "You know, an injured psychic isn't necessarily the best tool."

"It's the only way I see of getting what I want," Wright shrugged. "If you want it to happen differently, that's up to you."

"I told you already; I can't –" Shawn's words were cut off by the fist that slammed into his gut. He doubled over, retching and gasping for breath. He was brought back upright by a punch to the underside of his jaw, which flung his head back. The room began to look a little blurrier than it had a minute before.

A cruel smile danced across Wright's lips as he watched Phil teach the psychic a lesson. After a few minutes, he held up his hand. He walked back to the chair, and Phil yanked Shawn's head up. Shawn groaned as his sore body was forcibly pulled upward.

Wright stood there for a moment, surveying the bruised and bloodied captive in the chair. "Well? What do you say to my proposal now?" Wright finally asked.

Shawn glared at him – well, as much of a glare as he could manage with his sore face.

"I'll take that as a 'no.' I'm not a patient man, Mr. Spencer. I don't like having to wait. However, I will give you five minutes to think it over." He motioned to Jim and Phil. "Let's go."

They walked out and slammed the door behind them, leaving Shawn alone for the moment.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

Lassiter leaned down to get on eye-level with Charlotte. "Tell me what I want to know! Where is Spencer?"

She stared at the tabletop. "How would I know?"

"Look," Juliet told her. "You don't come across as the kind of person who would normally do this sort of thing. Do you want to tell me why you are? We know Wright likes to use scare tactics. Did he threaten you?"

The girl shook her head.

"Your family? Charlotte," Juliet paused, "look at me."

She did so, and Juliet could see the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

"We just want Wright brought to justice and to bring Shawn back safely. But we need your help. How did you get involved with him?"

Charlotte said the next words so softly that the detectives had to lean in to hear them. "He's my older brother."

"What?" Lassiter nearly hit the ceiling. "We don't have any records of him having any living relatives!"

"He's got some guys who are really good at wiping out files or redoing them to make them say what he wants. One such thing was making it look like we never knew each other. We're quite a few years apart, and our parents died when I was little. Norman had some people raise me and would only show up once a year or so. When I turned 16, he started coming around more often, and then he had me start learning how to do work for him. Nothing major at first, but it escalated, though this is the first really big job he's had me do."

"Can you tell us anything at all that would help us find Shawn?" Juliet asked. "I know you want to save him as much as we do."

"Yes." Charlotte nodded. "I don't really want to do these jobs for Norman, but what choice did I have?" She paused for a moment. "I'm really in trouble with you guys, aren't I?"

"Yes, but the courts usually make allowances for cases like yours. You'll be fine," Juliet patted her arm.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we need to work on finding where Wright could've taken Spencer," Lassiter spoke up.

"Okay," Charlotte wiped her eyes. "I'm not too sure, but I've heard him or his men mention a few places within several miles that would be possibilities."

"Great." Lassiter poised his pen over his paper. "Let's get started."

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

"Mr. Spencer?"

Henry and Gus looked up at the sound of McNabb's voice.

"Detective Lassiter asked to see you in the chief's office. You, too, Gus."

"Thanks," Gus told him, following Henry, who had taken off towards the office as soon as he heard Buzz's words.

"What is it?" Henry asked, coming over to where Lassiter was bent over a map spread out on the desk.

"We've got a few possible locations for Shawn," he informed them. "We're checking into them right now."

Juliet walked in just then. "Most of the places check out as clean. There's just two left. A boathouse here," she pointed to a spot on the map, "and an abandoned house here," she pointed again.

"What do you think is the most likely place?" Lassiter asked her.

"Personally, I would think the boathouse. It's more secluded, and it's not much farther from the bakery than the house is."

Henry leaned over for a better look. "And there's several ways to get there from the bakery, so it would be easier to use as a getaway place."

"My thoughts exactly," Lassiter nodded. He reached over and grabbed his jacket. "O'Hara, get a team together to storm that boathouse!"

"I'm on it!" she hurried from the room.

Lassiter held up a hand in protest as Henry opened his mouth. "I know you're going to want to come, Mr. Spencer, but as a detective, I have to keep civilians safe."

"Oh cut the nonsense, Lassiter. You know I was a cop once, but even if I wasn't, I'm not going to sit around doing nothing while my son is in danger. I'm coming with you."

Sighing, Lassiter turned to Gus. "I suppose you'll be wanting to come, too."

"Think about it; what if it was Juliet in trouble?"

"Fine. Just stay out of our way until we clear the room."


	9. Thinking Of You

As the minutes ticked by, Shawn tried to put the nervousness out of his mind. He had no doubts that these were the last minutes of his life. His thoughts turned towards all the people he'd leave behind.

He thought of Gus, his best friend. This would hurt him so badly. The two of them had been together for years, and were as close as brothers. Sure, he'd be able to stay caught up on his route and all the other stuff at his pharmaceutical job, but for as much as Gus complained, Shawn knew he'd miss being called twenty times a day about trivial things and having to take time off to work on a case.

For as much as his dad complained about Shawn not wanting to fish with him or clean out his attic, and for as many lectures as he gave his son, Shawn knew that deep down his dad loved him like nothing else. Henry would be devastated by this.

And Jules … How he wished he'd told her before all he felt for her. It had always seemed like he'd have the time to do it later. In his normally flippant way, he never stopped to think that there might not be a later.

Would Lassie miss him? Probably, but he would never let anyone know. The chief would most likely react in a similar fashion, though maybe just a little more emotional than the head detective.

His thoughts drifted to Charlotte. He mentally kicked himself for not noticing her true character. Normally he prided himself on his observational skills. This time, one of the times that it mattered, he didn't pay enough attention.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

The detectives' car sped along the road. Lassiter gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white, and, in the passenger seat, Juliet's face was a similar color. Neither said a word; they were too worried about what they might find when they got to the boathouse.

Juliet kept picturing Shawn in her mind's eye. That sandy-brown hair, those hazel eyes, those crazy antics … Until then, she had never admitted it to herself, but now, racing along the winding road, she realized she had feelings for him. Why did it take this for her to see that? What if she never had a chance to tell him how much she liked his smile, how much she liked his jokes and his small acts of kindness?

Lassiter's thoughts were on Shawn as well. He had never realized how much he actually liked the psychic. Of course, all his jokes and his flailing around during a serious investigation went totally against all of the head detective's instincts and training. But it was just how Shawn was. If Wright had done anything to Shawn, Lassiter promised he'd make the man pay. Thinking of that scenario, he also realized that if Shawn never came around the station again, things wouldn't be quite as nice as he'd imagined.

A small blue car kept close behind Lassiter and Juliet's car. In it, Gus and Henry were having similar thoughts.

Gus was remembering all the fun times he and Shawn had had together since they were young. All the scrapes they had gotten into and all the adventures they had had. All the times Shawn had played pranks on him. All the cases they had worked on together. He also found himself thinking of the times he'd gotten mad at his friend for interrupting his other job, or for getting between him and a girl. None of those seemed so important now. He found himself hoping there would be plenty of future opportunities for Shawn to do all of that over again.

Henry kept thinking about all the times over the years that Shawn had done something hoping to impress him and his response was to lecture him. A lot of the times, Shawn had deserved it, but Henry realized he had never even acknowledged his son's efforts. He thought of all the things he had done to push Shawn towards being a cop. Not that he regretted trying to get Shawn to follow his footsteps, but maybe he was a little too hard on the kid. He had never let Shawn find his own personality, never let him discover who he really was. Maybe that was why Shawn had taken so long to finally grow up; he had needed to catch up on everything he'd missed. He didn't allow himself to think of not getting his son back. Instead, he focused on what he'd say once they were reunited.

The cars continued on towards the boathouse, their occupants lost in their own thoughts, all hoping they would get there in time.


	10. It Can't End This Way

The three "men in black" soon returned, jolting Shawn out of his thoughts.

"Have you decided to help me out, Mr. Spencer?" Norman Wright asked him.

Shawn shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't do what you're asking of me."

"Your choice. Foolish choice, but yours all the same." Wright motioned to Phil and Jim. "Phil, I would like you to take care of Mr. Spencer. Jim, you need to clean any traces of our occupancy from this place. Then we can get on our way. I have a debtor to track down."

"Glad to," Phil nodded. He untied Shawn from the chair and made sure his hands were still tied behind his back. "Let's go."

"Where? I'd like to suggest the police station," Shawn couldn't help speaking up; it was his way to deal with dangerous situations.

Phil shoved him towards the door. "Shut up." He led Shawn through the door and around to the beach behind the boathouse. Shawn expected him to pull a gun or a knife at any moment, then realized that Phil's love of brute force was going to be his demise. The man was going to beat him to death.

Grinning, Phil let loose a punch to Shawn's abdomen. Shawn heard a distinct _crack_ and felt a fiery burst of pain as his ribs gave way. With his arms held behind him, Shawn could do nothing to shield himself as Phil punched him again and again. His world began to swirl in a combination of blurred red images.

A kick to Shawn's knees knocked him to the ground, and he landed on his left arm hard enough that he suspected there was going to be considerable damage. He couldn't tell for sure, though; everything hurt so much.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

The cars finally reached the boathouse and screeched to a halt. Lassiter and Juliet jumped out, guns drawn, and led the team towards the building. Henry and Gus watched anxiously from the car.

They burst through the door yelling, "Police! Get down!"

The two occupants of the building looked up in surprise, and one made the mistake of reaching for his gun. Lassiter squeezed the trigger, and the man dropped his gun with a shout of pain, a red area appearing on his shirt sleeve.

"Get on the floor, now!" Lassiter bellowed. The men immediately obeyed. "Cuff 'em," Lassiter instructed two of the officers.

"Where's Shawn?" Juliet looked around the room.

"I don't know." Lassiter stalked over to the prisoners, who were being pulled to their feet. He got right in the face of the guy he had shot. "Where is Shawn Spencer?"

The man just glared at him.

"Tell me!" Lassiter yelled, getting even closer so that their noses touched.

The man didn't even blink. Desperate, Lassiter grabbed him around the throat with one hand. "Tell me where Spencer is, or so help me I will –"

"Carlton," Juliet warned.

"This is my call, O'Hara," he snapped at her. Turning back to the man, he gave him a shake. "You tell me what I want to know _now_!"

"Out back," the man finally gasped.

Shoving him back, Lassiter tore out of the hut with Juliet close behind. Guns at the ready, they rounded the corner towards the beach.

Juliet's heart dropped at the scene that came into view. Shawn was on the ground covered in blood. A big guy with rolled-up sleeves was drawing his foot back, aiming a kick at Shawn's midsection.

"Police! Freeze!" she yelled, her voice mixing with Lassiter's shout.

The man didn't even turn around, but let his foot go forwards, landing against Shawn's side with a _thunk_.

Lassiter charged towards him, keeping his footing in the sand remarkably well, and tackled the man, knocking him away from Shawn. He yanked a pair of cuffs out and snapped them around Phil's wrists. "When I say 'freeze,' that's exactly what I mean!"

Juliet ran over, slipping and sliding, and fell to her knees beside Shawn just as Henry and Gus appeared on the scene.

All of Henry's worst fears came to the surface when he saw his son lying limp and bloody on the sand. Juliet was leaning over him, trying to revive him, but Shawn remained unresponsive.

Gus stood there frozen. His normal reaction to blood was to get queasy and find somewhere to throw up, but it was his best friend who was covered in it, and that made it seem almost surreal. He jerked into action as Lassiter shouted his name.

"Guster! Call for an ambulance!"

Gus yanked out his cell phone and obeyed.

Henry rushed to help Juliet, cutting away the ties on Shawn's wrists, doing all he could to get a response from the limp man lying on the beach.

Shawn's eyes finally blinked open slightly. He could make out two figures leaning over him, calling his name, but the darkness seemed so much more inviting. He let out a soft moan and slipped back into the place where he couldn't feel the pain.

"Shawn!" Henry patted his cheeks, trying to get him to wake up again, but to no avail. This couldn't be happening! His son had so much ahead of him; it couldn't end here. Not now, not like this.

"The ambulance is on its way," Gus told them, putting his phone back in his pocket. The brief conversation had been enough to clear his head a little, and he turned back to where Henry and Juliet were crouched over Shawn. "How is he?"

"Not good," Juliet said, her eyes still glued on Shawn's face, watching for any sign of consciousness.

Lassiter returned from the car, where he had turned his prisoner over to the rest of the team. He had ordered them to take the three men back to the station, saying he and Juliet would stay with Shawn until the paramedics arrived. "Spencer, what have you gotten yourself into now?"


	11. Whatever Happened To Easy WrapUps?

The ambulance arrived a few minutes later, and the paramedics went right to work. Henry and Juliet stepped back to allow them to strap Shawn onto a stretcher and load him into the ambulance.

Henry rode with Shawn, and Gus followed in his car. Lassiter and Juliet left for the station after making Gus promise to call them the second there was any news. If it were up to them, they'd be at the hospital as well, but there were prisoners to process and question and paperwork to take care of.

For Henry, it was the longest ride of his life. He'd thought the ride to the beach a little while before had been the worst, but this ambulance ride topped that. To be sitting helplessly in the corner while strangers worked over his unresponsive son was torture. He didn't know what most of the medical equipment they were using did, but he hoped and prayed it would change something for the better.

Shawn didn't wake up during the ride to the hospital, nor did he return to consciousness when they wheeled him through the hospital's corridors to an operating room.

Henry occupied his time giving the waiting room a matching trench to the one in the police station. Every time someone entered, he looked up in hopes that it would be the doctor who had worked on Shawn.

At the police station, Lassiter and Juliet went through their work on autopilot, half-focused on what they were doing, constantly glancing at their phones. McNabb seemed to have caught their mood because he spent as much time as he could by Juliet's desk.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

Hospital waiting room chairs are pretty sturdy, but Gus still managed to stand up quickly enough to knock his over when a doctor entered and asked for Mr. Spencer.

"Your son is out of surgery now. He's recovering in ICU."

"How is he?" Henry asked.

The doctor sighed. "His injuries are pretty extensive. I'm surprised he's doing as well as he is, considering. He has several broken ribs, one of which punctured a lung. He has injuries to his stomach and several other organs, a severe concussion, and some minor cuts and abrasions. His left arm was broken, and he has some damage to his knee as well."

"He's going to be okay, though, right?"

"It's hard to tell right now. When he wakes up, we'll know a lot more, but he's still unconscious right now."

"Can – can I see him?" Henry asked.

"Yes sir, you may. However, I can only allow one visitor at a time, and only family. Follow me, please."

After Henry and the doctor left, Gus pulled out his phone and dialed Juliet's number.

"O'Hara," she answered in a voice that was tense with worry.

"It's Gus."

"Gus! How's Shawn?"

"Still unconscious, but he's out of surgery now. The doctor said he's in ICU. It sounds pretty bad."

"We can't see him yet, can we?"

"No, they're only letting family back there for now."

"Okay, call me as soon as anything changes."

"I will."

She sounded much more relieved than she had when she first answered the phone. "Thank you, Gus."

He hung up, feeling only slightly better. Shawn had come through surgery all right, but there was still a long way to go before he would be fully recovered. Gus didn't want to think of what his friend had gone through to get the way he was. The list of injuries the doctor had rattled off as if they were a bunch of statistics was shocking. What had those men done to Shawn?

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

As soon as Juliet finished talking to Gus, she shared the news with McNabb, then hurried into the chief's office.

Lassiter looked up as she entered. "Glad you're here, O'Hara. I was just about to call you."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I just wanted to let you know we were able to get information from Pullman on where they were holding Marianne Rawlings. Do you want to participate in the raid?"

Juliet cocked her head. "Don't you usually just assign these things?"

"Yes, normally I do, but I figured I'd give you a choice since I know you're waiting for news on Spencer."

She paused. "That's very thoughtful of you, Carlton. Thank you."

"Don't make me change my mind." He headed for the door. "Just come on if you're coming."

She hurried after him. "I just got a call from the hospital," she said when she caught up. "But even if I hadn't, I'd still come along."

"What did they say?" Lassiter asked without breaking stride.

"Shawn hasn't woken up yet, but the surgery went well. Gus said he'd call again when there was any change."

Lassiter sighed. "All right. Let's go."

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

As much as he wanted to stay in the sweet blissfulness of oblivion, Shawn found himself waking up. He tried to open his eyes but had to slam them shut again. The bright lights felt like daggers in his brain after being in the dark for so long. Wait … those were electrical lights. Where was he? The last he could remember, Phil had been about to knock the life out of him – literally. He thought he could remember something else afterwards, something with him being on the ground and two people leaning over him.

He could hear someone next to him calling his name. He just wanted to ignore them and go back to sleep, but the voice wouldn't let him.

"Shawn? Shawn? Come on, open your eyes."

Finally he gave in and cracked them open a little. "There, you happy?"

"Oh, Shawn; you don't know how good it is to see you awake."

"Yeah, well, I don't know about that."

"How do you feel?" his dad asked, pressing the button to call the nurse.

"Like someone decided to use me to for a punching bag."

His dad laughed. "Well, that is a pretty accurate description of what happened to you."

Shawn started to join in but immediately regretted the action.

"Shawn? What's the matter?" Henry asked worriedly as his son gasped in pain.

"Ah, nothing. Apparently my body didn't think that joke was all that funny."

A nurse entered just then, stopping when she saw Shawn awake. "I'll go get the doctor." She scurried back out the door.

Shawn turned back to his dad. "So, how long was I out?"

"About 7 hours or so." Henry looked at his watch.

"Wow," Shawn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I got whacked pretty hard, huh?"

"Yes, you certainly did," a man in a white coat smiled, walking into the room. "We were starting to get a little worried. How do you feel?"

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

Gus was getting ready to head back to the hospital. Henry had convinced him to go home, saying he could get a better rest in his own bed than the hospital chair. He told Gus he'd call him if Shawn woke up. It wasn't like Gus could see his friend before that, so he'd agreed.

As he unlocked his car, his cell phone rang. He saw the name Henry on the display screen and punched a button. "Is Shawn awake?"

"Wow, Gus, way to cut the small talk. Yes, he's awake," Henry chuckled. "Just get down here. The doctor okayed him to be moved, so you can see him now."

"Great. I'm on my way."

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

After visiting with Shawn for a while, they were both shooed out by a nurse.

"Mr. Spencer needs his rest. Go get coffee or something and come back in a little while."

They had no choice but to leave. Heading for the hospital cafeteria, both checked their watches to see what time they could come back. Neither wanted to miss a minute with Shawn.

Taking a seat at one of the tables, Gus suddenly set down his cup. "Oh man! I totally forgot to call Juliet. She's going to be so ticked!"

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

In one of the interrogation rooms at the station, Juliet was having a talk with Charlotte. She felt she owed the girl to tell her they had apprehended her brother and most of his men.

"They won't be able to bother you anymore. If your case goes the way I think, you'll be able to start a new life within a year."

Charlotte smiled. "That's such a relief. It's hard to believe, though, that I'll be able to live my life the way I want to."

"Good," Juliet smiled. "We do need a little help from you."

"How?"

"Well, any testimony you can provide us with against the men we arrested would help a lot."

"Of course."

Juliet opened a file and spread some photos across the table. "Okay, these are the men we have in custody. As far as we can tell, there's only one or two still out there, and they don't pose any immediate threat."

Charlotte studied the dozen or so mug shots in front of her. "Wait. Something's not right."

"What is it?"

"Did you arrest a man named Roland Barry? I don't see him here."

Juliet looked through some of the papers in the file. "No, I don't think so."

Charlotte looked up at the detective with fearful eyes. "You were wrong about the immediate threat. This Barry guy is one of my brothers big guns. His main job is to clean up things for my brother."

"Things …" Juliet didn't want to think what that might mean.

"If he's still out there, he's looking for …"

"Shawn!" Juliet whipped out her phone.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

Orderlies were a common sight in hospitals, and no one gave the man a second look. Wheeling his cart down the hallway, he looked for all the world like he belonged there.

Reading the name tags on the doors he passed, he stopped in front of one labeled "Spencer, Shawn."

He grinned in satisfaction and silently slipped inside.


	12. See? This Is Why I Hate The Hospital!

"Gus!" Juliet exclaimed as soon as he answered the phone.

"Hey, Juliet, I was just about to call you. The doctor said –"

"Gus, I need you to listen to me," she interrupted. "We found out that one of Wright's men might be in the hospital right now."

"What? Why?" The information took a moment to sink in. "You mean he might be trying to kill Shawn?"

She sighed. "Yes, to keep him from testifying against them."

"Are you on your way?"

"We are," she said, glancing out her window as they raced along, "and I called for a security guard to get to the room. We don't know if the guy is there yet, and we can't take any chances."

"We're going up there, too."

"I didn't expect I could stop you. We'll be there in a few minutes."

Gus disconnected the call and turned to Henry, who was impatiently waiting for him to finish.

"What was that all about?" the older man demanded. "Is Shawn in danger?"

"Juliet said that someone from Wright's gang might be in the hospital …" Gus trailed off as Henry spun away and headed for the stairs, then hurried to catch up with him.

When they reached Shawn's room, the door was ajar. Hearing no sounds of a struggle, Henry looked in.

The first thing that he noticed was the security guard – well, it was kind of hard to miss someone you nearly trip over. The man was lying, unmoving, on the floor with a syringe sticking out of his shoulder.

The second thing he noticed was the orderly leaning over the hospital bed. Shawn was feebly struggling against the hands that were wrapped around his throat, but it was a losing battle.

Seeing his son in danger was not something Henry took well to. He put all his emotions into one good punch to the side of the orderly's head, knocking the man to the ground.

"Shawn! Are you all right? Can you hear me?" Henry asked worriedly.

Shawn didn't respond even if he could have. He was too busy gasping for air. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his face matched his sheets.

A nurse rushed in, and Juliet and Lassiter appeared around the same time. Gus and Henry moved back to a corner of the room as the three others took over their respective jobs. The detectives cuffed Barry and led him away. The nurse started working on Shawn while several more medical staff came in to rush the guard off to emergency care.

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

After a while, the commotion died down. Henry and Gus had just sat down beside Shawn's bed when Juliet stuck her head into the room.

"Mr. Spencer, Gus, I thought you might want to know that we now know for certain that no one else from Wright's payroll is on the loose. Shawn's safe now."

"Thank you, Detective." Henry held up a hand as she started to leave. "I do want to know, though, how in the world someone who doesn't work here could come in and nearly kill my son without being noticed."

"I wondered that, too," Juliet admitted. "I talked to the hospital admin. She says that they often use floaters from other area hospitals to fill in from time to time. According to her, it's not uncommon for the regular staff to not know who they are."

Henry snorted. "Yeah, well, maybe they should be more careful about who they let float in from now on."

"Well, I need to get back to the station now. I'll stop by tomorrow."

WMWMWMWMWMWMWMW

The next morning, Shawn was lying in bed, gazing out the window, when someone knocked on his door.

Juliet looked in. "Hey, Shawn. How're you feeling?"

"Better than I did last night."

"I'm sure. Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry we didn't get to the boathouse sooner. I should have been there to get you out of that before anything so serious happened."

Shawn watched her, his normally jovial mood gone for the moment. "Jules, I need to apologize, too."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"Yes I do," he insisted. "I was wrong about Charlotte. I didn't pick up on the fact that she was in on the whole thing … and … I wanted to know if you'd come to dinner when this whole thing is over," he finished lamely.

Juliet laughed. "Are you asking me on a date, Shawn Spencer?"

"I don't know, am I?" He grinned. "Though I guess it won't be an official one, because my dad will probably insist on us going to his house, but, hey, I'll be lucky if he lets me out of his sight after all that's happened."

After a few more minutes of small talk, Juliet left for work, and Shawn found himself drifting off to dreamland. His final thoughts before sleep overtook him were of a beautiful detective – the one he knew he could never lose.


End file.
